


Tristesse

by Camelittle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Porn, Post 5.13, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is suicidal, crushed by the weight of his destiny. Can Arthur save him, and save Albion?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gwen

**Author's Note:**

> Had to try and fix poor Merlin after the trauma of 5.13 on Christmas Eve. Listening to Chopin's Etude in E "Tristesse".

**December 2012**

The white-haired man lay in the cave, hidden from the world, and tried to remember, willing the crystals to yield a vision of the past, of the man who had been everything to him. But it was so long ago. The harder he tried, the more the memory eluded him. He pressed his wrinkly eyelids together til they leaked with the pain of the forgetting. He'd posed as young and old, grandfather and grandson through the ages. He wasn't sure which one he was any more.

"Too long, too long," he whispered despairingly. "Come back soon old friend for I fear I will not be able to hold on much longer." Eyes, nose, heart, mouth filled with tears and longing, breaths rasped, ragged with ancient grief. This was a ritual much repeated, never answered over the centuries, as the memories receded.

And yet, this time, a breath of air, a faint echo of a voice, so dear and yet almost forgotten. "Merlin..." And a pair of sapphire eyes burning with intent, no longer fogged with pain, stared back at him from the crystal. He started up, heart pounding with sudden hope. "Arthur?" he shouted. The crystals glowed blue and gold; he ran from the cave, concealing it with a hurried command and a golden flash from his eyes. With another flash his body straightened, shedding years from his appearance he sped across the ground and towards a waiting mountain bike, and then sped through the forest toward the lake.

**August 2012**

Gwen had always liked old Mr Emrys, who lived in the cottage next door to hers, near the lake. Old Mr Emrys wore shabby black clothes and a silly squashed black hat, and smelt of pipe smoke. Her dad thought he was a grumpy old git. But when Gwen was little he would tell her magical stories about dragons and wizards and handsome princes. He would make up wonderful tales about a beautiful peasant girl called Gwen who married a handsome prince and became a Queen. Gwen would imagine that she was the peasant girl, and pretend to boss Mr Emrys about.

"Put on my tiara," she would say. "Cluck like a chicken. Act like a donkey. Wear this tutu." And he'd put it on, bow deeply and say "Whatever your majesty commands," and waggle his beard, pulling silly faces until she giggled. And even when she grew up, coming home from university in the holidays, she enjoyed his stories, drinking his brandy and playing dominoes with him in the firelight.

So she was sad when there was a call to say he had died, and his grandson, a young dark-haired man, moved in to the cottage. He was a postdoctoral researcher he said, working in the Scott Polar Institute in Cambridge, which was a bit of a coincidence, because she was just about to start her Ph.D. in the Geology department there. His name was Merlin and he was spending a few weeks in the cottage, working and settling in during the northern hemisphere summer, before heading off to the Antarctic for a few months on the ice.

"That's funny, your Grandad used to make up stories about Merlin the wizard, King Arthur and Queen Gwen," she said when he introduced himself.

"I know, he loved all those legends," said Merlin. "I think he must have got mum and dad to name me after the wizard or something."

Gwen laughed. "I think he may have had a hand in my mum and dad's decision to call me Guinevere as well. What a mouthful, I ask you! So where do your mum and dad live then, where do you come from?" Gwen dimpled at him. He really was quite attractive, if a bit skinny. His blue eyes seemed to change colour to reflect the weather, like the sea.

"Mum and dad are both dead."

"OH! Sorry."

"Not your fault!"

Merlin laughed, as if to say it was ok, he didn't mind any more about his parents being dead. But Gwen thought his eyes looked sad and didn't follow up her unanswered question.

But over the course of that long wet summer they became easy friends, and bonded over tea and chats and hikes in the woods. Gwen confessed to Merlin that she was a sucker for fanfiction and lurking at sci-fi conventions; Merlin confessed to Gwen that he had embarrassing taste in music, enjoying indulgent prog rock, indie and nihilistic emo stuff, the more depressing the better, and that he liked to spend days on end in the Kings Meadow at the Glastonbury festival communing with hippies.  

One day they were laughing at themselves for tucking into a rare Oolong that Gwen had sourced from an organic tea shop in town, when Merlin leaned forward to fish out a recalcitrant tea-leaf from her cup, and a pendant on a thin black leather thong fell forward from his shirt. It was in the shape of a stylised golden eye, outlined in obsidian, with a golden eyebrow above it, and a curling stylised gold eyelash beneath. In its centre was a circle of azure lapis lazuli, flecked with golden pyrite. An angular golden teardrop spilled from its corner. It looked ancient, primeval almost, and very very expensive.

"Merlin," she asked curiously, "What a beautiful pendant. It looks familiar - what is it? I love it."

His mercurial eyes locked on hers and darkened - almost slate grey now - and for a split second she sensed vertiginous grief, solitude, loss, until he turned away and released her from his gaze. Her heart thumped, she was not sure why. He unclipped the pendant and ran his fingers over it gently.

"It's an ancient Egyptian amulet called the Eye of Horus," he stated, clearing his throat. "It symbolised royalty, nobility, power, protection, sacrifice." He swallowed and looked away, as if remembering. He was silent for a while and then looked back at her and tried to smile, shrugging.

"I just like the combination of perfect blue and gold."

From the tone of his voice she could tell that it meant a little more than that to him, and that he'd left rather a lot unsaid, but she let it pass. She was confident she'd wheedle Merlin's secrets out of him eventually.

"So where does a humble post-doctoral research assistant manage to find the money for an expensive amulet then, Merlin?"

Merlin tapped his nose.

"Not telling."

"Spoil sport. I was hoping you could get me one!"

"Sorry, no can do. My grandad got me this, it's my only valuable possession."

"Blue and gold, then. That's the way to your heart is it?"

"You're disturbingly perceptive."

And he looked uncomfortable - a bit shaky even. She reached out and put her hand over his, fixed him with her disingenuous brown eyes.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I didn't realise. Did someone break your heart? Tell me who she is and I'll kill her!"

He half-chuckled.

"It doesn't matter now. The point is that I am well and truly fucked. Which by the way I've never told anyone before. And I don't know what is worse, the fact that I still keep looking, and waiting, or the fact that I can't even remember his voice or what he looked like, and I feel like I am falling to pieces all the time. And I never could find anything that was quite the right shade of blue. Except this. Nearly. To help me remember. Until he comes back I mean."

He breathed in, trembly-lipped, and turned his cup round in circles, then looked up again.

"You see, the thing is that I always loved him, never looked at anyone else, couldn't begin to think of anyone else in that way, he just... filled me up, filled everything up, he was the sun and the sky, you didn't know him Gwen, he was golden and noble and arrogant and just PERFECT." Shaking his head. "There was no room for anyone else. Not for me. I don't know if he even knew. I think he did, at the end. At the end... when it was too late, after he knew about my... when he told me... things..."

Gwen gazed on him compassionately before drawing him into a hug. He rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"There there," she said, as a small corner of the Merlin puzzle clicked into place in her head. "It's ok Merlin, it's ok."

That night after she left him she clicked on her computer and googled "Eye of Horus". The wikipedia entry stated:

"Horus was the ancient Egyptian sky god who was usually represented as a falcon. The Eye of Horus was often used in funerary regalia. It depicted sacrifice, healing, restoration and protection."

Gwen fell asleep her mind a jumble of sky-gods, falcons, merlins, and shades of blue.  



	2. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's body was flung across the street into the path of an oncoming car, arms and legs tangled as shocked shoppers, students and tourists stood for a moment in horror, convinced the black-haired youth must be dead. Emergency crews converged, scooped him gently onto a stretcher, carted him off to Addenbrookes Hospital.

**October 2012.**

 

He never got down to to the ice. 

Merlin stepped off a pavement in Cambridge into the path of a bus. 

It was a split-second decision. Arthur was never coming back, Albion didn't need him any more, surely he could stop now and rest. He had had enough of the striving, the confusion, the anguish of forgetting, the pain of remembering - it was all too much. He felt fractured, splintered, split into pieces. The world would not miss him; people left the room when he came in, made excuses not to sit with him and his silent brooding, his tortured eyes. Better to end it, put everyone out of their misery.

The driver braked hard, O-mouthed, and Merlin's body was flung across the street into the path of an oncoming car, arms and legs tangled as shocked shoppers, students and tourists stood for a moment in horror, convinced the black-haired youth must be dead. Emergency crews converged, scooped him gently onto a stretcher, carted him off to Addenbrookes Hospital. 

Some hours later he awoke, covered in bruises, stitched up and patched, but otherwise physically unharmed, cursing and howling in grief. The medics thought it was a miracle, Merlin knew otherwise. Albion hadn't finished with him yet. The thing is, he could not understand what Albion wanted from a washed-up warlock after all this time. 

They kept him overnight, but then they needed the bed, so they sent him back to his lonely college digs with a note to attend a mental health clinic the following week. He threw it away. There was nothing the psychiatrists could do. He was fucked up beyond any healing. 

The Prof told him to go home, forget work for a while, spend some time recovering. So kind, iron-willed Gwen, so like her namesake, dropped out of her Ph.D. for a few weeks, came to get him and drove him in her ancient rusty VW Polo back to the West Country for recuperation. And he tried, for her, to shrug off the fog in his head. 

The change had come upon him gradually while he worked on his postdoctoral research. He'd had so many lives, so many roles, mostly in universities. This time he was investigating the rate of melting of the polar ice caps. His science told him of decay and loss, melting ice-sheets, extinction, climate change and impending cataclysm, and his magic told him the same things - he felt them, deep in his gut, pulling bits of him off, pinching and hurting him, exhausting him. 

He was magic, and he was Albion, and he was the world; and every overfished river, polluted reservoir, and extinct species wounded and fractured him further; he and Albion reciprocated their sickness, so that when he was hurt, or angry, or sad, which was pretty much all the time these days, the weather reflected his mood. Rivers flooded, landslides engulfed roads, birds fell from the sky, disorientated, cattle sickened. Albion and Merlin were in decline and there was nothing he could do about it, except cling on to his nearly-vanished hope that this was finally fucking well it, and Arthur would come back and rescue him or something. 

Gwen came round most days to make him a cup of tea and check he was eating. He made an effort to look chirpy for her, dragging a smile round his face, trying not to look too miserable. She chatted while she bustled round, making sure the house was reasonably hygienic. Then sat with him, talking, listening, hearing more than he said as, burdened with the weight of his destiny, he struggled to find words. 

"I can't explain. It all happened so long ago, I don't know why it is weighing so heavily on me now. I can only think it's because I am finding things out in my research, terrible things about what people are doing to the earth, and to each other, and I don't know what I can do to reverse the damage." His face was healing, although he still had an angry scar on his cheekbone. It made him look dangerous and sexy. Gwen had a bit of a crush, although she realised his heart was given elsewhere - and to an undeserving man, at that. 

"But Merlin, no-one expects you to be the one who fixes it all." 

"If not me, then who?" 

"The Doctor and Amy Pond?" 

"Oh ha bloody ha. No, what we need is a diplomat, someone skillful and charming, someone charismatic and decisive, to pull all the governments round and face up to the bloody facts about what's happening on this planet." 

"David Cameron then?" 

Merlin snorted and spat out his tea. 

"When did he dump you then?" 

"What? David Cameron?" 

"No you idiot, this man of yours. Your lost love. You know. The blue-and-gold one." She rolled her eyes. 

"Oh nifty subject-change Gwen. Anyway, he didn't dump me. It's more complicated than that." 

"I've got time." 

Merlin sighed and smiled, not sure how to duck the question this time. He decided to hide the truth inside the truth, which would have worked much better if his voice hadn't kept cracking; he launched into one of old Mr Emrys's tales about Merlin and Arthur and Gwen - about Arthur dying, and Merlin waiting by the side of the lake for his king.  As he warmed to his tale he managed to quell the worst of the voice-quavering, proud of himself for finishing with a wobble-free flourish. 

"And so I remain here, still waiting for Arthur to return from Avalon," pointing across the lake at the abandoned priory, and tossing back the dregs of his tea. "Another cuppa?" 

Gwen laughed, enjoying the story, but she looked sad, as if Merlin hadn't trusted her, and so on a whim he decided to disclose another hurtful truth. When he returned with the tea, he cleared his throat. 

"I lost it you know," he said conversationally. 

"What?" 

"The Eye of Horus. Lost it in the accident." And at that his voice crumbled, and he bowed his head. Oh god. It hurt to say it. Tears fell into his tea. He was such an idiot, crying over a piece of jewellery for fuck's sake. His shoulders shook. 

"Oh Merlin," she sighed, and dragged his head onto her shoulder for a hug. "Maybe it's for the best, you know? Make a new start and all that?" 

"I don't think so," he sobbed. He felt himself disintegrating again, but couldn't help it. "I know I'm meant to wait for him Gwen, I just don't know how any more. And now I feel like I've lost my only connection to him." 

"What is his name?" 

"I already told you Gwen. Arthur, his name was Arthur." And he put all his sincerity into his gaze so that she would see the truth of his words. Gwen regarded him sceptically. 

"Merlin, I have no doubt that for you he represents something as important as the mythical Arthur was to his devoted warlock. But you don't need to protect him from me." She grasped his hand in hers. "Look. You have been working too hard, you've lost someone important to you, and you have got depressed. Just try to remember the little things that make life worth living, ok?" and she fished into her bag, pressed a small bar of Green and Blacks chocolate into his hand. "I've got to go now, but promise me you'll eat this, have a nice bath, watch a bit of Doctor Who, listen to some upbeat music and go to bed early. Please?" 

He nodded. "I promise." 

But instead he lay in bed with his broken memories, listening to dead peoples' voices on his ipod - Amy Winehouse, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain - Arthur's face and voice out of his reach now.


	3. Gwen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as she could tell, he was in complete denial about his break-up with the Evil Boyfriend, and so had invented this whole crazy back story about destiny and Avalon to try to paper over his cracks. This whole "eternal man" thing was a bit freaky though. She reckoned he must have spent too much time shipping Doctor Who and Captain Jack Harkness, and projected their relationship onto himself. Not that she blamed him, she'd written some quite kinky David Tennant and John Barrowman fics in her time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Merlin. Let's hope Gwen can cheer him up a bit

**November 2012**  


November started with floods and went downhill from there, together with Merlin's mood.

Gwen was worried. She really should be back in Cambridge, preparing to go out to South America for her field project; instead she was mooning around the West Country, unable to tear herself from Merlin's train-wreck emotional life.

As far as she could tell, Merlin's sack-of-shit ex-boyfriend hadn't even bothered to call, let alone visit.

Mind you her own love life was not exactly thriving. Her on-off boyfriend, gorgeous Gwaine, wasn't returning her calls. She didn't trust his claims to be busy with lab work; like some long-haired love-hound he'd probably scented fresh October blood, and was off sniffing some Cambridge snooty-nose scarfy bint's skirt. Bastard. She wasn't sure she cared any more. It'd always been more of an animal attraction than a relationship with him.

So instead of dwelling on her woes she was staying at home with her mum, eating her mum's home-made dinners, and lavishing attention on Merlin - at least that way she felt she was doing something worthwhile.

Poor Merlin intrigued her. As far as she could tell, he was in complete denial about his break-up with the Evil Boyfriend, and so had invented this whole crazy back story about destiny and Avalon to try to paper over his cracks. This whole "eternal man" thing was a bit freaky though. She reckoned he must have spent too much time shipping Doctor Who and Captain Jack Harkness, and projected their relationship onto himself. Not that she blamed him, she'd written some quite kinky David Tennant and John Barrowman fics in her time. Got a bit obsessed with Torchwood as well. But this fantasy Merlin had just couldn't be healthy. She racked her brains for a way to get through to him, help him to move on.

And so it was that one particularly vile November morning Gwen trotted up to his door, pressed the button and stood under her umbrella, feet in a puddle. She was wearing wellies covered in bright yellow sunflowers, and a bright sunflower-patterned raincoat, and carrying a sapphire-blue umbrella. Yellow-and-blue, to cheer him up.

"You're a technicolour girl in a monochrome world," he smiled at her ruefully. He pulled her in, took her coat and brolly and sat her down.

He looked pale, miserable and thin although all his wounds had healed from the accident. He bustled round the kitchen and thrust a steaming mug into her hand.

"PG tips I'm afraid. I'm all out of posh tea."

"Thanks Merlin."

"How's our Gwen today?" His smile looked effortful, wry.

"I'm fine thanks."

"Has that worthless boyfriend of yours made contact yet?"

"No not yet". Rueful pout. "So I've been shopping." She tried (not very hard) to keep the excitement out of her voice but failed. He took the hint.

"What did you get? Apart from some weather-defying clothes"

"It took me ages to find. And I'm not sure it's the right thing. But I wanted to get you this." God, she hoped she'd got the right thing. She had saved up all she could, borrowed a bit from her mum.

She reached coyly into a purple and green polkadot bag, and withdrew a parcel wrapped in gold paper, tied with blue ribbon.

"Gwen, it's not my birthday! And Christmas is a whole month away..."

"It's more a sort of 'getting-better' present: go on, open it."

"OK OK bossyboots, thank you anyway!"

He ripped off the paper to find a black leather box, rimmed with gold lettering, and flipped open the lid. Inside was a leather thong, and on it dangled a replica gold Eye of Horus. Gwen bit her lip, knowing that it was no match for the original, hoping that it wouldn't matter. The lapis jewel in the centre was much thinner; the gold was gold plate, and the black eye-rim was ceramic instead of obsidian. But she'd spent a lot of effort checking that the eye was correctly made, because she knew it was important to Merlin to get all the shapes and colours right, and it had been quite pricey for her, it really was all she could afford.

When his eyes filled with tears as he drew it from the box, she knew she'd got the right thing. She helped him to clasp it round his neck.

"Gwen, I don't know what to say, I'm touched beyond all... it must have cost you a fortune, thank you so much!" He stroked it gently

"Hush. I know it's no replacement for the original, but beggars can't be choosers and all that."

"It's perfect. You don't know what this means to me." And he actually smiled, radiating pure joy. "You, Gwen Smith, are an extraordinary person. You have given me hope. Thank you so, so much." And at that moment a shaft of sunlight beamed through the window, lighting on the table.

"Hey Merlin, the sun's coming out: maybe there's a rainbow."

"Maybe. Let's go and find the pot of gold!"

And laughing and shrieking at the curtain of rain that fell on them, they ran out, as through a crack in the clouds sun beamed onto their drenched hair. The amulet round Merlin's neck flashed azure-and-yellow.

That evening, she swore she saw Old Mr Emrys again, wobbling up the track through the woods on his old mountain bike. She rubbed her eyes, and shrugged. Must have been imagining things. Old Mr Emrys was dead, wasn't he? She watched the old man's retreating back and wondered.


	4. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miraculously Arthur's jewel-like eyes appeared to him, glowing in the walls of the cave, and finally he remembered. Arthur, the whole of Arthur, body and voice and noble soul; scent, charisma and sarcasm; he remembered him with utmost clarity and certainty, and knew with sudden joy that his wish had been granted. This was Gwen's gift, this memory. It was beyond all price. Because he was sure that with it Arthur had returned. 

**December 2012**

Merlin changed the music to something a bit more upbeat, humming and singing along to the Black Keys "Lonely Boy"

  
"I've got a love that keeps me waiting," he sang as he tidied up his research files and journals. "I'm a lonely boy, I'm a lo-onely boy. Oh ohohoh, I've got a love that keeps me waiting."

  
Gwen's gift must be a sign of hope. Surely. But then again, what was the point? What could his golden prince do in this day and age? What call was there for a skilled swordsman, handsome and decisive, courageous to the point of insanity, but unable to put his own clothes on, and with no knowledge of the past 1500 years of military development? Just who and what in this cynical age was the spiritual embodiment of Albion, the arbiter of Arthur's return? And why would they give him his Arthur back?

  
There was a thought on the edge of his mind, something he just had to grasp. He closed his eyes.  If in some way, he was the embodiment of Albion... maybe that was it, that was what he needed to work out, maybe it was *his* greatest need that Arthur would come back for. Was that it? If so, how would he bring him back?

Think, Merlin, think. If only he could remember better. He could hold on if he could remember. But the memories were old, old, old. He turned off the music. Too modern. Turned all the lights off, turned out the LEDs and standby buttons, disconnected his mobile and landline, sat in the glow of the fire, lit a candle and went back through some old journals. He had written the stories down long ago to try to stop the forgetting. But now the words on the page seemed more vivid than the memories themselves, and the voices in his head as he read were all his, none of them were real any more. He needed to remember, get the pictures back in his head, awaken his senses, remember Arthur's face and voice and that masculine scent - musk, leather, coal-tar soap, lavender, sweaty armour.

A heavy lorry rattled past his door. He needed to get away from the modern world and into the woods, the quiet, sacred places, reach into himself and tease out the memories from within. Those wild spaces of Albion, potent with life force, had all but vanished from the land, buried under concrete and suburbs, choked by forestry commission plantations; the preternatural intensity and watchfulness of the natural world was dim and fading. But there were exceptions to this rule. He'd found solace in the dwindling wildernesses of the world through his research over the years, and there was still one sacred spot close to home.

And so every day since Gwen gave him the amulet, Merlin disguised himself as an old man, trying not to look too much like Old Emrys, hoping to avoid her following him, and wobbled up the forest track to a National Trust car park and tea shop.

He parked his bike in the forest and carefully pressed his way through the undergrowth, taking care not to be seen, muttering spells to disguise the bike, senses reaching out to check for walkers passing close by. A dense, scratchy area of bramble and blackthorn parted on his command, and he unveiled the entrance to the Crystal Cave, which was still wrapped in magic, his retreat from modern life, the lodestone of his power. He ducked into the cave, wreathing the thicket in magical mist and artfully draped lichens once more, pulled out the amulet, illuminated it with a soft magical light.

There he stared at the amulet amid the crystals, looking for a sign, but the visions in the crystals were stubbornly mundane - swirly mists, grey pavements, rain-slick buildings. 

It was on one such agonising evening that he found himself pressing bitter tears between his eyelids, despairing, wishing, praying, when miraculously Arthur's jewel-like eyes appeared to him, glowing in the walls of the cave, and finally he remembered. Arthur, the whole of Arthur, body and voice and noble soul; scent, charisma and sarcasm; he remembered him with utmost clarity and certainty, and knew with sudden joy that his wish had been granted. This was Gwen's gift, this memory. It was beyond all price. Because he was sure that with it Arthur had returned.

He laughed wit exhilaration as he raced his bike back down the hill like a teenager, whooping as he jumped over bumps and puddles, churning up ruts, thrusting thistles, brambles and branches out of his way with his magic.  He stood by the lake, panting, breath wisping like dragon flame in the cold night air, moonlight reflecting on his black hair, eyes glinting with magic as he sought the impossible, reaching out with his power to the hidden island of Avalon. A ripple broke the surface, then two, and as he strained with his heightened senses he felt, smelled, heard, a plain wooden boat gliding towards him, jagged mooncast shadows around it

It contained a precious, though enraged, cargo.

And Merlin laughed in sheer delight, splashing into the shallows as he heard a quiet "plop", a loud bellow, and a long-unheard but well-beloved voice uttering obscene oaths and dire invocations

Arthur. His turnip-pated, addle-brained, arrogant, supercilious, pompous prat of a friend had a returned, and not a moment too soon.  


	5. The Thawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur was shivering violently, juddering, fingers and toes on fire as they reawoke, nerve endings tingling, pins and needles everywhere, his thudding heart soothed by Merlin's gentle voice, blond hair damp with Merlin's tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is reunited with Arthur at last. Fluff ensues

**December 2012**

 

  
When Arthur awoke, he was lying naked in the bottom of the boat, breath stuttering in the cold air, tendrils of fog rising from the lake. Shuddering painfully from the cold, he tried to sit and managed to overbalance the boat, falling into the lake with loud curses and a whoosh of air as he surfaced. He splashed around for a bit, yelling and floundering. Where was his armour, his sword, his clothes? Where was Merlin? What had happened, how did they get to the lake? What the hell was he doing in a boat? Was Morgana truly dead? Between gasps, he looked around and could see a figure that looked remarkably like Merlin standing by the edge of the lake.

"Merlin!" he bellowed, "Don't just stand there you bloody idiot!" he managed to cough before falling under the water's surface again. Bony arms gripped him under the arms and towed him to the side, dragged him onto the stony shore, with algae dripping from his blond hair, goosebumps all over his now-healed body, and a foul mouth croaking vile curses and threats at his former manservant. He felt undignified, helpless. He replaced these unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions with incandescent rage, which felt much more manageable, as Merlin fussed around him.

  
"How long have I slept?"  
"Long enough, lazybones."

  
Merlin rubbed him down with some sort of drying-cloth before dressing him in unfamiliar-feeling clothes.

  
"Come on Arthur, it's freezing, let's get you somewhere warm. We can go to my cottage in the village."

"Can't you just take me back to Camelot?"

"Arthur, you have slept for a long time. Things have changed. I'll explain when we've warmed you up a bit. Come on, walk with me."

And he pulled Arthur to his feet, half dragging him along. Arthur's legs crumpled under him and he fired off another volley of curses.

"At least tell me you have brought horses you ridiculous incompetent."

"Arthur, I didn't know you were going to choose today to wake up! And anyway, it's not that easy to procure a horse at short notice. I have brought my bike but it's really not far to my cottage. Or I can go for a wheelbarrow and bring you back in that."

  
Arthur tightened his grip round Merlin's damp waist. "Don't leave me!" he gasped in sudden panic. Merlin turned and embraced him, forehead to forehead, still panting with exertion, eyes glistening in the dark with unshed tears.

"Now you have returned to me at last, I will never willingly leave your side," he said fervently, in one of his sudden intense moments of breathtaking sincerity, which made Arthur's heart jump. He smiled uncertainly, Merlin's face-splitting return smile like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

  
The two of them stumbled through the forest to reach a tiny cottage in a still, quiet village just before dawn. Merlin unlocked the door and they entered, Arthur's eyes round with shock and wonder as he took in the metalled roads, amber street-lights, and unfamiliar objects that were neatly arranged around the cottage. He couldn't speak, he was so cold, he could barely stand. He stumbled into the room, wobbly-legged.

  
Merlin seated Arthur in front of the fireplace, lit the fire with a quick verbal command, and ran upstairs, returning in dry clothes to his shivering friend with warm coverings. And then the two men burrowed into the covers in front of the fire, teeth chattering, embracing each other for warmth, Merlin murmuring all the while.

  
"Here, Arthur, move closer to me, I can warm you with my body and my magic, you have hypothermia Arthur, you need to warm up. Come on my old friend, my dear dear friend, I have missed you so. Arthur, let me warm you." Merlin scooted along the long comfortable seat, pulling Arthur's shivering body closer, closing the spaces between them until every part of Arthur was touching a part of Merlin, Merlin everywhere like a blanket pulled round him, Merlin's strength and warmth and magic embracing and enveloping him. Arthur was shivering violently, juddering, fingers and toes on fire as they reawoke, nerve endings tingling, pins and needles everywhere, his thudding heart soothed by Merlin's gentle voice, blond hair damp with Merlin's tears.

  
Gradually peace settled on them both and Arthur's heart stopped pounding. He felt strength and vigour returning to his long-unused limbs. Merlin was regarding him with a peculiar intensity; Arthur grinned at him and spoke:

"What?"

  
Merlin laughed shakily.

  
"I've waited for this moment such a long time, now I don't know quite what to say."

"Well you never were particularly bright. Or was that just for show. You know..." (Arthur pulled an idiotic face and spoke in a sing-song voice) " _I'm just dopey old Merlin, never mind me, oops just spilled something, meanwhile I'm," (Adopts dark, doom-laden voice)_ " **plotting how to slay all Arthur's enemies without anyone knowing who I am.** "

  
Merlin laughed again, less self-consciously, as Arthur went on.

  
"You know, if I'd only known about your... you know... " Arthur pantomimed making spells by wild hand-flapping movements, "I could have promoted you and then we could have been. You know. Friends. Properly I mean."  
"We are friends." Merlin gulped and looked away. "More than friends," he whispered, and then peered cautiously back at Arthur between long black lashes.

  
Arthur couldn't find the words to acknowledge the truth of this admission as the two men gazed at each other intently. Instead he leaned towards Merlin and chastely kissed his forehead with chapped lips. Then, emboldened by the lack of objection, kissed Merlin's cheekbone. Merlin's eyes fluttered closed, breath sighing against Arthur's neck, and Arthur's guts overturned at the sight of Merlin's long lashes, thin, vulnerable eyelids. He cupped Merlin's face between tentative hands and gently kissed his eyes, lashes prickling his sensitive lips. Merlin moaned his name softly. 

"Arthur... "  
"Merlin," he whispered back, gulping. "You were always there for me weren't you. And I never knew. I felt it, somehow, couldn't bear it when you weren't around, but was too stupid, too blind to understand why. Forgive me Merlin."

"Nothing to forgive," croaked Merlin.

"Oh but there is." Arthur could do breathtaking moments of sincerity too. All the more devastating because they came to him with such difficulty. And he leant forward again and grazed Merlin's lips with his open mouth, tentative, breathless, heads turning into the kiss. Merlin was humming, mmmmmmm, eyes closed as Arthur withdrew, gasping, scorched. Merlin's eyes snapped open again, fixing on Arthur's tongue as he ran it round his mouth, trying to regain his composure.

  
Merlin pulled his face back down, and dragged Arthur onto him as he whispered into Arthur's mouth,

"I have always been yours, here for the taking... Arthur I am still yours, I have waited for you all this time, just touch me, hold me, I need you, I've always wanted you, wanted this, oh god please yes," voice thick, trembling with desire, before Arthur dissolved completely into the embrace, lips and tongues, hands buried in hair, bodies rubbing together

  
Arthur moaned and shuddered in Merlin's arms, aroused beyond measure by Merlin's declarations, heat, lust. He crammed himself on top of Merlin, body to body, wriggling til he found the right angle to rub his hard cock against Merlin's crotch, encouraged by the bulging erection he found there. He buried his face in Merlin's long hot neck, searching with his lips, tongue, teeth, rasping stubble to stubble, panting and groaning with sudden want.

  
One strong hand searched frantically, cupped the flesh of Merlin's round arse cheek, wedged between it and the sofa, while the other fist burrowed into Merlin's trousers to encase his hot prick, huge and springy. Merlin's eyes, black and gold in the firelight, opened wide at his touch, and he let out a long, low-pitched, shuddering moan that set Arthur's ears roaring. Merlins hips arched up and down gently at first, and then more urgently, pumping his stalk in and out of Arthur's fist.

  
"Christ, yes, Arthur, let me fuck your hand, oh god Arthur I have dreamt of this for so long, imagined your hands on me, your hands feel so strong..., you feel so...." He writhed, wiggled his hips under Arthur, eyes ablaze and then it seemed to Arthur that the air around them shimmered, crackling with magic, his nerve endings jangling as Merlin, mouth muffled in his, panted "Arthur! I'm going to... Oh! Oh! FUCK!" and came, sticky and hot against Arthur's palm, eyes closed, neck bulging, tendrils of power cracking from his hands and chest and crotch. It was the most erotic thing Arthur had ever seen. Arthur moaned again, humping Fuck Fuck Fuck frantically against Merlin's thigh until he spilled into his pants, breath rough and hot against Merlin's straining neck

Silent now apart from their breathing, the two men lay wondering, sticky in each others' embrace

  
Merlin cleared his throat

"Well... er... welcome back Arthur."

"Thanks. Nice to see you again."

"That was... er... " Merlin coughed. "Well, I missed you."

"I could tell. I erm... Well. Nice way to wake up. Bloody hell Merlin. You are intense."

"Sorry. I was erm... lonely?"

"Holy Fuck, you looked like..."

In the throes of his passion, Merlin had looked like a god. Arthur couldn't bring himself to say it, but he couldn't wait to see Merlin like that again, feel his magic snaking round him, caressing him, teasing and delighting him. But there in the afterglow he had to find out one more thing. 

"How long?" whispered Arthur, not wanting to know the answer. Merlin turned to him, eyes compassionate

"About 1500 years."

"WHAT!" Arthur could feel the walls tumbling down.

"I'm sorry Arthur. About all of it."

"But that means... they're all gone."

"Yes. Except me. I'm here for you. I'm still here. For you Arthur, always for you."

Arthur turned to him in the midst of his sudden crushing grief and saw. So much

"And what about you. Who is here for you Merlin?" he said gently.

"Only you. Always you."

Arthur sighed and smiled a little. Well, compared to having the hopes of an entire nation resting on your shoulders, the needs of a lonely 1500-year-old sorcerer shouldn't be too much of a burden. Should they?

And to lighten the mood, he said "Well Merlin, I think you, and your smutty magic, have just ruined me for the women of the (counting on fingers - 16th, 17th, 18th...) 19th Century"

"21st actually."

"Seriously?"

"I'm always serious."


	6. Tristesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quiet chords started again, they sounded like soft wind in the trees. They swelled and died away, picked up like dancing feet, and then suddenly, crashing sequences like anguish and pain. The music ebbed, and he started to speak and then stopped - it had quickened again, this time urgent and scared, delicate and wild, excited and desperate, and then suddenly slashing fury, angry and violent, and unrelenting. And then the quiet aftermath. It was breathtaking. Arthur listened intently as the final delicate notes tailed away like grief. He felt like he'd been chewed up and spat out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is trying to adjust to the 21st century. Merlin is helping him. Well, a bit anyway. But it's quite difficult when he can't keep his hands off him

  
**December 2012**   


"Here," said Merlin when he returned from the kitchen. "You must be starving." He'd brought two trays of spaghetti with home made quorn bolognese and hot cups of tea. Arthur stared at the unfamiliar food and prodded it tentatively with his fork, as if he thought it was going to wake up and attack him. It smelt good enough, but he had no idea how to eat it. Merlin started tucking in, rotating his fork to manoeuvre the wormlike spaghetti into his mouth. Arthur attempted to copy him, ignoring Merlin's squeaky sniggers as the spaghetti fell off the fork and spattered sauce all over his face. In desperation Arthur shovelled the food in, it tasted fantastic and he was ravenous. Merlin was snorting helplessly with mirth, as Arthur sat there with spaghetti protruding from his mouth and then sucked the pasta in, ends vanishing into his mouth with a 'pop' and a splash of red sauce.

"If you've quite finished HONKING like a PIG, Merlin."

More cackling.

"Oh my God Arthur, you've got pastasauce chickenpox!"

Arthur had no idea what he was talking about, but he loved it when Merlin laughed - the way his eyes crinkled and danced, his mouth stretched across his face in a maniacal grin, the way he would speak through clenched teeth. He used to laugh a lot but had turned so serious in recent months. Recent for Arthur, he amended mentally

Merlin came across with a wet cloth, and to Arthur's mortification started dabbing it across his face

"Here, Arthur, let me help you clean up."

Arthur batted his hands away

"I'm not a CHILD Merlin."

Merlin looked him intently in the eye and then ducked his head low, gently cupping Arthur's chin in his hand. He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing a bit, and then closed his eyes before his lips traced the line of Arthur's stubbly jaw, tongue and lips hot and wet around Arthur's mouth, mopping up the bolognese from Arthur's chin with little "mmmmm"  noises. Arthur moaned involuntarily. Merlin's mouth just felt so amazing. He opened his own a little, let Merlin's tongue enter him. The two trays crashed to the floor, tea spilling everywhere. The men collapsed in a heap of giggles, mouths and tongues clashing hotly, hands clawing at clothes, breaths coming in little pants. Merlin struggled to his feet, grabbed Arthur's hands and pulled him up the stairs and into his tiny bedroom

"Wait, I have to pee," panted Arthur.

"In here." Merlin opened the door to the loo. Arthur looked at it in wonder. "Down there, splash into the water." Both men giggled as Arthur attempted to extract his semi-erect penis and direct the flow down the pan. Merlin seemed to be paying quite a lot of attention to Arthur's knob, eyes round and hungry looking.

"You can't be hungry, Merlin, you've just eaten." Arthur teased as he turned back, hand on hip, prick still hanging over the top of his trousers.

When he replied, Merlin's voice was low, seductive and his gaze was intent. His hand was on his bulging trousers, which spoke eloquently of his arousal. His eyes were on Arthur's cock, which was enjoying the attention judging by the way it was hardening.

"I'm hungry. Want to eat. You. Now." And Merlin pulled Arthur from the bathroom, thrusting him roughly onto the bed, pulling down his clothes. Kneeling on the bed Merlin reverently nuzzled Arthur's knees, thighs, inner thighs and the folds around his hanging balls, breathing deep, gulping breaths.

"Merlin are you SNIFFING me?" Arthur pretended to be indignant as he lay back. Merlin's searching nose inhaled his scent, Merlin's face buried itself in his folds, Merlin's hands wrapped round his buttocks, Merlin's lips and tongue flicked over his inner thighs. The heat of Merlin's exhalations engulfed his crotch; moans rumbled and vibrated through his sensitised genitals. Arthur felt painfully aroused

"Oh god, Arthur, you smell... you smell... incredible... let me taste you."

And his questing nose moved north towards Arthur's pulsing cock,  hard and pink, straining, still wet from their earlier play.

"Fuck, Arthur, your cock smells of sex, you smell dirty... I want to taste you, clean you with my tongue."

Arthur's heart was thudding, wits scattered. He groaned and croaked "yes, please yes, put your filthy sexy fucking mouth on my cock," as he caressed Merlin's black curls

It was intoxicating, Arthur's body thrilling under Merlin's insistent hands, melting with Merlin's voice whispering his lust. Arthur moaned and writhed under him, cock huge and hard, so sensitive, loving the heat and friction, loving feeling Merlin's dirty mouth, loving watching Merlin's lips, red with bolognese and desire.

"Missed you Arthur. Want you. Love you. Want to suck you. Want you to fuck my mouth..." And Merlin had freed his own prick again, was stroking himself with one hand, murmuring his love all the while. Arthur's breath came in great gulps as he gasped "Yes, yes, oh my god Merlin, yes."  His eyes closed in ecstasy as he felt Merlin's mouth closing hot and wet over the end of his engorged prick, rough tongue flicking his silky smooth end. Again and again Merlin drew him in and released him, the build-up agonisingly slow. And then as Merlin's voice hummed and rumbled around him, Arthur coiled tight, poised for an eternal instant, and then came apart, gasping, groaning, spurting between Merlin's full lips, hands buried in Merlin's black curls as Merlin gulped and licked.

Merlin clambered to the bed, onto Arthur, eyes flickering with golden flame, alien and powerful and godlike, pressing himself into Arthur's muscular thighs, chest to chest, face to face, mouth to mouth, tongue still sticky with Arthur's seed. Arthur searched with his hands, palmed Merlin's hard prick through his clothes, eyes questioning. Merlin moaned, "Arthur, please, fuck I need to feel you, please." Arthur pulled down Merlin's trousers, gasping at the size of the erection he found there, took Merlin's cock in both hands, gripping it and stroking; Merlin's hips lifted and thrust rhythmically into Arthur's encircling fists, and their eyes locked as he came, hot semen spurting through Arthur's fingers and painting white stripes onto his naked torso.

The two men embraced, incoherent and undone in each others arms. In the dark Arthur could see that Merlin's face was streaked with tears - he was panting, sobbing.

He touched Merlin's cheek wonderingly.

"What is it? Merlin don't cry, does this not make you happy? You don't know how much I have longed to touch you like this, you are so beautiful, so perfect, Merlin, please don't cry. I didn't mean to leave you, didn't want to..."

"Arthur, I'm sorry... I just... I missed you for so long, I found myself forgetting... and now you're here, it's... overwhelming. I'm still yours, I always was, I always will be. I need to be whole again, and I can do that now that you're here, I know I can, it will take time that's all."

Warm, sated, full, and yet somehow saddened they lay together in the afterglow on Merlin's bed

Merlin tried to explain his unease.

"Arthur, let me show you something."

He reached across to his bedside table, retrieved a small shiny silver box, white wire threaded to it.  "This is called an ipod" he explained. "It's not magic. This is technology. Anyone can buy one. I think this will help me to explain how I have been feeling recently."

He fiddled around with the object and inserted two small white discs that attached to the wire into Arthur's ears.

"Trust me," he said. "This is beyond anything my magic can ever do. I'm going to switch it on. It's going to play a piece of piano music in your ears. It will sound like the music is inside your head. The music is called Tristesse, which means sorrow."

And Merlin switched on Chopin's Etude number 3 in E. Arthur heard quiet chords in his head. He pulled the earphones out with a start.

"This is magic!"

Merlin shook his head. "Listen all the way through," and he started the music up again from the beginning. The quiet chords started again, they sounded like soft wind in the trees. They swelled and died away, picked up like dancing feet, and then suddenly, crashing sequences like anguish and pain. The music ebbed, and he started to speak and then stopped - it had quickened again, this time urgent and scared, delicate and wild, excited and desperate, and then suddenly slashing fury, angry and violent, and unrelenting. And then the quiet aftermath. It was breathtaking. Arthur listened intently as the final delicate notes tailed away like grief. He felt like he'd been chewed up and spat out. He stared at Merlin, wondering.

"That is incredible," he whispered.

"You see Arthur? You see? In a world where anyone can make this happen at the press of a button, who needs magic? Who needs me? Who needs you? Why are we here?"

Arthur smirked. He could answer that question.

"And there was me thinking you were the wise one. We are here for each other Merlin. I and my charisma and sex appeal," he waggled his flaccid, bolognese-encrusted penis for comical effect, "am here for you, and you, with your magic, and your silly ears, and your... your... fuckable mouth, and those impossible cheekbones, exist to bring me ecstasy beyond imagining."

Merlin barked a surprised chuckle through his tears.

"But Arthur, I'm serious. This world has no need for you, or me. There is no more purpose, or duty, or destiny. We're finished."

Arthur was suddenly furious. "And I am also serious, Merlin. Are you saying that Albion is perfect now, that it is well and whole and united, and that there is no war, or want, or injustice in this world?"

"Noooo but..."

"This is my land, and I am the Once and Future King. And it is still my duty to care for the land and its people to the best of my ability. You know, Merlin, when I was a prince, you called me a prat - and that is what I was. You challenged me, made me understand my purpose, made me a better person, a better king than my father. You were driven by an implacable sense of what is right. I have never forgotten that. Maybe that is why I am here now, to do the same for you."

Merlin stared. He had thought something similar when he set off for the Crystal Cave. Could it be true? Could he allow himself to admit and accept that he deserved this, his heart's desire? Could he allow himself to enjoy Arthur's love? To be healed, and in being healed himself, help to close Albion's bleeding wounds? He opened his mouth to speak but Arthur stopped him with a finger to the lips.

"Shut up Merlin."

Arthur turned lazily onto his side. He was exhausted. Returning from a 1500-year death trance, hypothermia, a good meal, and vigorous mystical sex with a horny sorcerer - well, it all added up to a very tired Pendragon. "And I meant it about the ecstasy," he mumbled, burrowing into blankets and pillows.  "But later. You can work on that later."


	7. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Either you are a complete deviant ARSEHOLE who has decided to pretend to go along with Merlin's self-protecting fantasies for some perverted, manipulative reasons of your own, or you two are locked in some kind of freaky co-dependent delusional role-play, in which case you are completely frigging INSANE."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is getting a bit bored. Gwen gives him a piece of her mind.

**Chapter 7. Arthur**

**December 2012**

Two days later Arthur the political animal, Arthur the all-action warlord, and Arthur the gregarious social butterfly, tired of being cooped up with Merlin the depressed magician, made war on Arthur the concerned lover, and won. Although Arthur cared deeply for his friend, and relished their new intimacy, his was a character that found social isolation intolerable. He needed other people, it was one of the things that made him so different from his father. He craved physical activity and the company of others. Perhaps he could find a tavern or something, chat to the local shopkeepers, go hunting. It couldn't be that difficult surely.

So he slipped out at dawn, pulled on some jogging trousers and a hoodie, snaffled Merlin's wallet, and snuck out of the house and into the street. Time to explore. He wondered down the road towards the village, hands in pockets, whistling tunelessly and smiling at passers by. They seemed pretty friendly, smiling back and saying "good morning". Some of them had dogs; he'd always liked dogs. Perhaps he and Merlin could get one. He leant down to pet one, smiled brilliantly at the owner, struck up a conversation. "Fine dog you have there," "Oh yes, I've always loved labradors haven't you?" "Oh yes, very much so. Lovely morning."

This was easy. Merlin was such an old woman, keeping him cooped up all the time, trying to make out that modern life was so different.  

At that point he made to step off the pavement into the path of oncoming car, but was prevented by Merlin, who had followed him out of the house and grabbed his arm before he could step into the street.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" hissed Merlin furiously.

"Trying to enjoy being alive," Arthur hissed back.

"That was so close, you nearly died right there you prat. You have NO FUCKING IDEA what you are doing out here."

"Then FUCKING well tell me, I am going MAD cooped up inside your house."

"I have been alone for 1500 years, I think you could wait maybe a few days so I can alert you to the dangers of modern life before getting yourself crushed under a lorry."

"Erm, good day then?" said the dog walker uncertainly to the two seething men before walking off. Merlin sighed, and dragged Arthur back inside. Arthur resisted arrest, and so Merlin employed some dirty, underhand magical tactics to manhandle him through the door. Arthur's fury ramped up a notch at being imprisoned in this way.

"For FUCK's sake Merlin I am not your prisoner here, you have to let me out."

"Of course, Arthur, but there's so much you need to know first."

Arthur knew that but he was in no mood to be reasonable. He stalked round the room, winding up his rage and frustration with each step, working himself up into a battle frenzy.

It didn't help that Merlin, shocked by Arthur's latest brush with mortality, looked like he had just fallen off a cliff and was just clinging on by his fingernails. Arthur felt trapped by Merlin's neediness and years of lonely waiting, trapped and frustrated by the obligations of gratitude and friendship, overwhelmed by grief. He expressed these unwelcome emotions as fury.

"Merlin I don't FUCKING CARE about how much I don't know, I'm not a child, how can you be such an absolute MORON"

"Calm down Arthur, you just need a bit more time."

"What I NEED is to get out of this bloody dungeon and start LIVING again."

"Soon, I promise, but first you need to understand some basic things about the modern world. You are ill-prepared to interact with others at the moment."

"*I* am a trained diplomat and politician, accustomed to decision-making, ruling and leading. Whereas *you* are a LYING, deceitful, pig-headed, manipulative... cabbage-brained, blithering IDIOT..."

Arthur looked round for something to throw, found a stack of Merlin's journals, and began hurling them one at a time with frightening accuracy at Merlin's head, punctuating his vitriol with an insistent rhythm of book abuse as Merlin ducked and flung his arms up to avoid each one and then scrambled around trying to save them.  

"Why don't you use your FUCKING magic to protect yourself, you're just trying to make me feel guilty, it's not working MERlin, for FUCK's sake stand up to me you bloody coward."

"Arthur, my journals, please don't... OW!"

"Don't what? Damage your precious journals? Hmmm? Then FUCKING-well let me BREATHE ok?"

At that point the doorbell rang. Arthur jumped.

"What the hell is that?"

The two men stopped and in the sudden silence Merlin slipped past Arthur to the door, fumbling for the catch, and opened it. Behind him Arthur could see a timid but determined-looking face, honey-brown and clear-eyed, dark hair tumbling in ringlets to shoulders, cheeks prone to dimples. She looked just like... Arthur's eyes widened. Gwen's narrowed.

"Gwen," said Merlin. "I was just..."

Arthur silently mouthed "GWEN!" in shock.

"Merlin, is everything ok? I haven't seen you for a couple of days, and I heard shouting and I thought..." those perceptive eyes glanced over Merlin's shoulder, past his shattered face to where Arthur stood, furiously red, blue eyes and golden hair glinting in the firelight, book still poised to hurl at Merlin's head.

"Oh! I see!" she said knowingly, and Arthur knew that she did indeed see, probably rather more than she should. He dropped his hand, ashamed. Merlin swallowed and lowered his head, gesturing for Gwen to come in.

"Merlin are you OK?" she said with a concerned frown.

Arthur answered for him.  
"No he's NOT *OK* - he's a complete FUCKING IMBECILE," and with this last bellowed word Arthur's rage at last petered out and was replaced with something like shame as he turned and fled into the kitchen slamming the door behind him The door clicked open and Gwen followed him in, arms folding, eyes narrowing.

"Oh great," muttered Arthur, rolling his eyes. Gwen strode over to him and slapped him, hard on the cheek.

"Ow!"

"So you're Merlin's lost love," she choked. "Pretty to look at, but an utter bastard. If you had even an ounce - no, ... a... a...  GRAM... of decency you'd fuck off to wherever you came from and let him get over you, you prick. But no, you just had to come back and piss all over him. What a twat."

"Well hello, I'm Arthur, nice to meet you too!"

"I suppose you've seen the amulet he wears? Blue for your eyes, and gold for your hair, you... you... tosser. Well your oh-so-perfect hair and eyes may be pretty, but they're attached to a complete loser. He's worth ten of you."

Arthur's anger had gone completely by now and he felt bewildered. Whoever this Gwen was, they had not got off to a great start. Which was a shame, because she was the first person other than Merlin and the dog-walker that he'd actually spoken to in this modern world, and it looked like she was a friend of Merlin's. He decided to try a charm offensive, and flashed his most winning smile at the newcomer.

"Listen, Gwen," he started

"I'm sorry if you have caught me at a bad moment, but the fact is that I have had a very VERY confusing few days."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. One minute I was locked in a deadly battle with my sister, then I was mortally wounded by a man whom I had until recently considered to be a friend, at which point I discovered my dearest friend and confidant - the ONLY person I trusted - had actually been LYING to me and manipulating me for years and was, in fact," (eyes rolling) "the most powerful wizard ever to walk the earth"; then I DIED and woke up 1500 years later to find that said confidant and friend is not only still alive, and still a sorcerer but also a kinky sex maniac with, incidentally, an EXQUISITELY filthy mind and skilful tongue, but has actually gone completely bonkers with loneliness while I was gone, which by the way was just for a few hours, whilst also being several centuries, so everything and everyone that I once knew is gone forever. Except him. And now you walk through Merlin's door, looking bloody well like my long-dead WIFE - and with the same sodding NAME as her, you are even SHOUTING at me the same way she did, so I think I have a RIGHT to be a little bit out of sorts, all right?"

He finished this speech in one breath, eyes wide for emphasis, and ran his hand tiredly through his messy blond hair Gwen did not look convinced. Won over, she was not.

"My God," she spat, finally. "Either you are a complete deviant ARSEHOLE who has decided to pretend to go along with Merlin's self-protecting fantasies for some perverted, manipulative reasons of your own, or you two are locked in some kind of freaky co-dependent delusional role-play, in which case you are completely frigging INSANE."

"Look, Gwen, I really don't have a clue what you are talking about, although I grant you that Merlin doesn't look entirely stable right now, I really don't see how you can fucking well blame ME for..."

"Oh really. Are you telling me you have not, at some point in your recent past, utterly rejected Merlin and everything he stands for? Thus being a major cause of his current hurt and turmoil? Hmm?"

Arthur's wind left his sails. His mouth gaped open and then snapped shut, fishlike.

"And are you saying that you have never belittled him, underestimated him, treated his love with careless disregard... treated him with callous disdain... taken him for granted? Hmm?" Gwen was furious. She knew from bitter experience what these posh, emotionally retarded public-school types were like. What an arse.  

Arthur couldn't speak.

"Did you know he tried to kill himself? Damn nearly succeeded? Last month? Hmm? And you never even called to see if he was ok? ARSEHOLE."

Arthur's eyes widened, startled.

"What?" he whispered. "Oh no. Not that. Merlin would never... Oh my god." He felt suddenly hot. "I didn't know..." and he regarded the woman who had met him two minutes previously and yet seemed to have seen clearly and unflinchingly into the darkest parts of his soul. Only one woman had ever done that before.

"Gwen? Guinevere? You ARE her. You MUST be her." And his face crumbled. "Gwen, I thought you were dead." He stepped towards her, arms outstretched. "Guinevere?" he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.

"Arthur, she's not Gwen," interjected Merlin, who had appeared in the door to the kitchen; having gathered all his journals together, he was holding them to his chest.

"I AM Gwen!" said Gwen.

"She IS Gwen," said Arthur.

"No she's not," said Merlin.

"Yes I AM!"

"No, really, you're not who he thinks you are! She's not who you think she is!"

"SHUT UP MERLIN!"

Arthur and Gwen both yelled at him in frustration; Merlin looked from one to the other before starting to laugh hysterically. His face was covered in welts, tears and snot; Arthur and Gwen couldn't help joining in as he snorted a belated, hysterical introduction.  

"Arthur - Gwen - Gwen - Arthur," he choked, wiping his face with a tissue. "God, look at you both, this is really freaking me out! I think it calls for a medicinal brandy."

He dumped his journals on the kitchen table, walked over to the cupboard and extracted three large brandy glasses and a bottle of Remy Martin. He poured a generous slug into each glass and settled onto a kitchen chair, indicating that the others should do the same. And there in silence they sipped their brandy, waiting, peeping warily at each other.

"Look," Merlin began, tapping the pile of mouldy-looking leather notebooks in front of him. "These are my journals. I wrote it all down, because of the forgetting. And rewrote it. And rewrote it. Over and over again." He sighed. "You can read it if you want to. But here's a quick summary."

And then he launched into his story. And, a couple of top-ups later, they understood it all - Merlin's interpretation of it anyway. Merlin's grandfather/grandson ruse; the source of Gwen's coincidental name; and the long-distance romance Merlin had conducted with his king across the centuries. He told it well, Gwen recognised the cadence and rhythm of his speech from her childhood with Old Mr Emrys.

"And so," he finished "Queen Guinevere ruled over a time of prosperity and peace; the King has been honoured over the centuries, his name a byword for nobility and strength of character; and the shadowy Merlin lurks in the background, waiting the return of his beloved lord so that they can heal the land together."

"Actually, Merlin, I rather think that Arthur could be here to heal you." The two men turned to Gwen in surprise. She continued.

"Look. I don't know if I can believe these fantastical tales. I'm a scientist, a rationalist, and immortality and magic are rather difficult pills to swallow, although I will admit that our recent foul weather and Merlin's recent foul mood have mirrored one another. But this is what I see."

"I see a beautiful man driven out of his mind by grief." She looked at Merlin "I see him fractured by alternating between hope and despair." She looked at Arthur "And I see his face light up whenever he looks at you, Arthur. What you do about that is up to you. But if you fuck up again, I swear to God I'll put a sword through you myself and send you back to bloody Avalon, wherever it is."  

She finished her brandy and swept out of the room, banging the door behind her.

"Are you absolutely sure she's not my..."

"Absolutely."

"Right."  

Arthur sighed. It had been a difficult morning. He felt lost and uncertain. Merlin came towards him, picked up his hands, turned them over and stroked his palms tentatively. Tendrils of magic snaked from his fingers, delicately tracing the tendons in Arthur's wrist, and enveloping his arms, tugging him gently towards Merlin, caressing him, ghosting towards his face, tenderly stroking his hair and neckline. Arthur closed his eyes and swallowed, allowing the magic to smooth away the frown between his eyes and the tension in his neck. He'd never felt so loved. When he reopened his eyes, Merlin gently drew him into a chaste embrace, and kissed him on the eyebrow.

"I'm sorry Arthur. I am so scared of losing you again I have behaved intolerably. Of course you need to get out more. Of course I will help you. I'm so sorry."

"Me too Merlin. I didn't realise how much..." he swallowed again. "I didn't know you had tried to... to...you know"

"To end it? Yes. I lost hope. It has returned now." Merlin smiled. "Really."

There was a long silence while the two men held each other close, eyes closed, nose-to-neck, breathing deeply, inhaling each others' warm scents.

"Love you Arthur. Missed you."

"I know. I know. Me too. I can't believe how lucky I am. To have you..." Arthur shook his head and looked at Merlin, vision blurring. Get a grip, Pendragon, he scolded himself. Merlin kissed away the tears, and led him gently out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Gwen said you have to heal me, Arthur. Let's make a start shall we?"

"Merlin I'm not a healer, how on earth am I going to...?"

"Let's see what Marvin Gaye has to say on that subject."

"Marvin who?"

"Just listen and learn."

"Right."


	8. Tristesse [8/8]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men stood in front of her, outside the college chapel, looking heartsmashingly gorgeous; one dark and smoochy, the other golden and shiny; and she swore she could somehow see a lingering golden halo around them both. They probably had sex this morning, she thought. Scratch that, they definitely had sex this morning. Dirty buggers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Marvin Gaye has a profound influence on how Arthur and Merlin try to heal Merlin's psychological wounds. 
> 
> Because we all love a happy ending, and healing magical cock.

**December 2012**

Arthur was not sure whether Gwen and Merlin were pinning false hopes on him with their talk of healing. But Merlin had been alone for too long, that much was clear; he had forgotten his diamond clarity of purpose. But Arthur hadn't.

Arthur's temper had already melted away as Merlin led him up the stairs, his magic tugging and caressing Arthur, nipping at him and licking him like a magical sex-puppy. Merlin's eyes were dark and intent, hidden deep within in their sockets as he drew Arthur into the small bedroom, holding both his hands, pulling him down onto the bed.

"Merlin! Wait!"

The enchanter, aided by an army of magical fingers, had already removed Arthur's shirt and was planting sultry kisses on his chest, fumbling at his trousers, pink tongue flicking over bitten lips, nose tickling down Arthur's bare belly towards and beyond his twitching navel. Arthur desperately tried to hold onto his rapidly-shredding composure, his sense of purpose in helping Merlin.

"Wait, what about this medical expert you spoke of? Gngnh..."

Arthur broke into inarticulate gasps, and Merlin couldn't reply, his mouth was full. Arthur tried to speak again, although his voice came in harsh bursts; Merlin was being so distracting.

"Marvin... ghuh... ghuh... something?"

Merlin's moist wet lips left Arthur's hard cock with a 'pop' and he giggled manically,

"Marvin GAYE!" he pronounced, eyes playful, emphasising the word 'Gaye'. "The singer? Listen and learn..."

His eyes flashed gold, lighting upon the sound system. Strains of "Sexual Healing" filled the air. Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, some sort of potion from an apothecary's manual perhaps.

"Merlin you are... Gnggh... Ohhh! Fuck! I... I... aaaah... do that again!"

Merlin's lips, tongue, and long sensual fingers were resuming their previous occupation and Arthur groaned. "Fuuuuuck..." He flexed his hips, slowly drawing his length out and then sliding back into Merlin's mouth again. Merlin hummed; Arthur could feel the knob-tingling vibration deep in Merlin's throat. Merlin's eyes flashed again and Arthur gasped. Impossible fingers massaged him, stroked his hair, his bollocks, tweaked his nipples, caressed his thighs, grabbed his buttocks. Although he could see Merlin's mouth around him, cheeks hollow with suction, lips pink and full, and feel Merlin humming gently, buzzing around him, yet he could also hear his filthy voice in his head.

"Missed you Arthur, love you, love your huge cock, I've always wanted to taste your seed, feel it burst into my mouth. You like that don't you. Like fucking my mouth. I want to fuck you back. Want to fill you up. Want to feel your tight hole round my prick. Let me in? Please?"

And then - breath wooshed in sharply as Oh god! Arthur could feel something nudging at his opening; a magical tendril, moist and slippery, firm and gentle, snaked out of Merlin's depraved mind and massaged his entrance. It felt extraordinary.

"Let. Me. In. Please Arthur. Please," Merlin insisted; hands, magic and mouth busy; eyes dark with desire.

"Yes, yes, oh god, yes Merlin, please," panted Arthur, the sensation of wet heat making him want more, wriggling and writhing under Merlin's touch.

He felt the magic sliding into him, narrow and tentative at first, and then gradually widening as it worked in and out, bigger and bigger, gently working him open, until he felt he could scream with the burning size of it.

"Tell me if it hurts you," Merlin whispered in his head, mouth still gently working Arthur's bulging erection. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

He started stuttering, teetering on the edge, "Nnn.no don't stop, please don't stop, Merlin, please, not just your magic, I want YOU, I want you inside, all of you."

There was another flash of the eyes as Merlin stood to encase his own length in a sheath, and slathered it with lube, hitching Arthur's hips high on the edge of the bed, ankles propped on Merlin's shoulders. Arthur whimpered with anticipation. Finally he felt the tip of Merlin's fat wet prick broach him, painful at first, working his way gently into him. He willed himself to relax, listened to Merlin crooning his love, filling him with warmth and ecstasy. Merlin pulled himself out and then eased in, a little further each time, exploring Arthur's deepest secrets, finally grinding his hips against Arthur's tensing sac, touching him inside at a place which made him see stars. Arthur moved his ankles down, wrapped them round Merlin's hips, and drew him in further. Merlin encircled Arthur's jerking stalk with his fist, stripped him with swift strokes as he came with a hoarse cry, beads of come decorating his taut stomach. Merlin seemed wreathed in golden light as he, too, went over the edge, his bruised-pink mouth seeking Arthur's, his hips pumping now, fucking Arthur hard, his face pulled tight with the effort, breaths tortured and uneven as he shouted Arthur's name and then collapsed onto his chest, spent.

"Fuck, Merlin." Arthur whispered infinite minutes later. "You're a pretty warped warlock."

Merlin looked dazed as he chuckled into Arthur's chest hairs. "I had a lot of time to dream up what I was going to do to you," he confessed. "Was hoping you'd be... you know... amenable? Sorry." He looked unrepentant. "I may have lost control of my magic a bit... got a bit carried away." He gently withdrew, removing the condom and guiding it into the bin with a spell, mopping them both up with another; they burrowed under the covers, and drowsed.

Arthur fingered the amulet that lay on Merlin's throat; gold, black and blue.

"Gwen spoke of this," murmured Arthur. It was warm to his touch, heated by Merlin's pale skin. "Is it magic? or teckynoggy?" he stumbled over the unfamiliar word. Merlin chuckled.

"The word is 'Technology' Arthur."

"Doesn't matter. What is it?"

"It's just a jewel. But the form of this jewel is wrapped in ancient Egyptian symbolism. I found it comforting when you... when I was waiting. I lost it, but Gwen bought me this to replace it. It... reminded me of you..." He coloured, and pulled a face. "The eye is so blue, you see..."

"Merlin, you don't have to be ashamed of your devotion to me," said Arthur smugly.

"Modest as ever, Arthur."

"Anyway, the jewel also symbolises me, in another way, I think; the stories that surround it speak of fragmenting, and... and then being made whole by magic. In ancient times the amulet signified protection, rebirth and healing - and I found it brought me hope, at a time when I had lost mine." He blinked, and shook his head. "There are many stories about the eye."

"Tell me one."

"OK." Merlin paused to gather his thoughts.

"According to the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, the jealous god Set murdered his brother Osiris. But the goddess Isis, Osiris's wife, gave birth to a son, Horus, after Osiris had died. Horus was born from dead Osiris's seed."

"A bit like my father and mother, but the other way round," said Arthur.

"Indeed. Anyway, when he reached adulthood, vengeful Horus sought out evil Set, and defeated him in a mighty battle, during which Set tore out Horus's eye and ripped it into six pieces. Thoth, the arbitrator, forced Set to return Horus's fragmented eye. Thoth restored the eye into wholeness, and with it Horus was able to return his father to life. This jewel was normally fashioned as a falcon's eye... actually I like to think of it as a merlin's eye," he confessed, self-consciously, not meeting Arthur's gaze.

"It is formed of six specific parts, each of which represents one of the six original fragments, and corresponds to one of the six senses - touch, taste, hearing, thought, sight and smell. According to legend, the eye is not quite complete. The piece that is missing is Thoth's magic, which binds the whole together. So you see, the eye represents many things - wholeness, and healing; but also sacrifice and loyalty, and binding magic. And the blue lapis centre, to me, represents you. My Arthur." His face was solemn. "My friend. My king." He planted a soft kiss on Arthur's cheek. "My lost love," he whispered.

"Merlin... I .... "

"Shhh." Merlin placed his finger on Arthur's lips. "I am not whole. I am damaged, this modern world hurts me. I didn't know how to heal myself. But this, with you... " His eyes were light blue, intense, introspective. "It's as if you are the magic binding me together, restoring me as I touch you with my senses - and my thoughts - as I fill you, feel myself inside you."

Arthur swallowed and nodded, quiet for a moment. Then smiled as a thought occurred to him.

"So Marvin had a point then?"

Merlin's crazy grin returned and he spoke with dancing eyes.

"Yeah, I really think he did."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Epilogue.**

**June 2014. Cambridge**

**Gwen**

The two men stood in front of her, outside the college chapel, looking heartsmashingly gorgeous; one dark and smoochy, the other golden and shiny; and she swore she could somehow see a lingering golden halo around them both. They probably had sex this morning, she thought. Scratch that, they definitely had sex this morning. Dirty buggers.

"David bloody Cameron did it after all!" she chuckled. For same-sex marriage was now possible in Albion and their union symbolised their healing, as well as the healing of the land.

And then Merlin stepped up to her, gave her a big hug and kiss. "Gwen, you are an extraordinary person. You pulled me back from the brink. I can't thank you enough, but want you to have this as a token of my gratitude and our mutual love of Oolong."

He reached inside his midnight-blue dress jacket and retrieved a golden case. She lifted the lid and gasped. There inside was Merlin's original Eye of Horus, returned to him by the staff of Addenbrookes, and now dangling from a delicate golden chain.

"I want you to have it," he said. "I hope it brings you luck, and brings you your Lancelot, as it brought me my Arthur. I'm going to keep the one you gave me." He smiled his megawatt smile, and she dimpled back.

And then Arthur stepped forward.

"Gwen, who isn't Gwen," he began, "I wanted to thank you too, for keeping him for me so he was here when I came back - and for opening my eyes." And he passed her a case. In it lay a golden ring, a wedding band. Not the one he wore for Merlin - a much older, plainer band.

"My Queen, your namesake, wore its twin long ago," he whispered. "May it bring you peace, as it did me." And she took it with reverence, then threw her arms round him, eyes welling.

"You didn't fuck up, Arthur," she choked. And, "Thank you," she said to them both. And they all linked arms and turned back to the chapel as the bells pealed.


End file.
